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A Letter from a Devil with a Hat
9th August 1901. Dear public, I would like to inform the lot of you of my recent activities. I am led to believe that the people of today are addicted to real life theatrics and to any and all sorts of drama, and therefore, I find it suitable to share with you a fraction of my own dramatic lifestyle. At about 2AM this morning I was standing in an alleyway, waiting, I was waiting for someone to cross paths with me; it did not matter to me who it would turn out to me. I am not exactly a fastidious person when it comes to my tastes. I have but one condition: whomever it may be that would cross my path, they had to be alone. Acquaintance is far easier to make when there are no third-parties. The moment I heard footsteps close by, I listened carefully, it was a lone person. Since it was a lone person, they fit my tastes and I began tapping my cane on the concrete floor beneath our feet. After a few moments of aimless tapping, the person was close enough to notice my slightly crouched figure. Perhaps due to empathy or simply as a matter of curiosity said person approached me; in turn, I asked whom they are, setting up my act of a blind middle-aged man. I must be a convincing actor if the man in front of me fell for my act rather quickly; I suppose it’s a result of a wrongful notion that states if a man suffers from disability he is weak or incapable of experiencing a normal eventful life. That is, however, not true, as Ludwig van Beethoven was able to produce music even after losing his hearing. I find the notion of empathy to be a troubling one; it most definitely clouds the human judgment. I myself was blessed to not be able to feel any empathy, because of non-functioning Amygdalae. My condition also leads me to feel neither fear nor aggression and during my youth, it also hindered my ability to interact with other persons; however, with time I learned how to fake emotion in order to overcome my social struggles. According to medicine, I am one-of-a-kind; there is no name to what I have, and there is no name to what I am. Back to my meeting with a man in the alleyway, I suggested he lead my way back home and he accepted my arrangement out of the kindness of his heart, something he made vocally clear. We began walking, as the man was leading the way while I softly directed him. We walked for some fifteen minutes until we reached a place where the streetlights would not reveal my deeds to world; once there, I tapped on the man’s shoulder and when he turned around, I blew a handful of my magic powder into his face. This is the way I had captured all of my previous victims as well. The man stumbled backwards, cursing out at me while I informed him that the substance I had blown in his face was a strong hallucinogenic agent. Mind you, this is a substance I had created myself and you will not be able to find it anywhere but in my possession. The man regained his balance and tried to take a swing at me; I dodged it with my cane and began walking away from him, while he decided foolishly that he should follow me in order to exact revenge for my actions. After a few short minutes the man became hysterical and began screaming in my direction that I am a devil with a hat and that he will exorcise me from this world in the name of the Lord; I had observed similar rumblings from past victims as well. I turned around and charged quickly towards the man who was clearly trembling at the appearance the hallucinogenic agent gave me in his mind. Once I was close to the man who fell to his knees while pleading for mercy, I pulled the blade hidden in my cane and stabbed him not too deeply in the abdomen to make sure he is without conscience while I transport him to a more secluded location. Once the transportation was complete, I tied the man down to a chair and administered high amounts of drugs to reduce his ability to think soundly as well as to reduce his sensory reactions to pain. After doing so, I gently sawed of his cranium while he was still out cold. Once he did wake up, I informed him that he is at a dinner table and that dinner would be served immediately, he seemed genuinely delighted to find out he was being served food, little did the fool know was the fact that the meat he so pleasurably consumed was his own brain. Surprisingly, he survived through the loss of the majority of his cranial contents. After consuming most of his own brain, the man simply fell down on the plate before him and stopped showing signs of life. I hacked his head off and proceeded to skin the rest of his body. Skin, unlike the human brain is a harmless organ for consummation, and I am most definitely going to use it in future meals. Tonight I only ate his thigh, liver and a lung; the rest of his body should be able to sustain me for a week or so. Meat is meat whenever you disregard your emotions towards its source; I do not see the difference between beef, pork and human meat. You are what you eat and you know that is the case, there is one difference to be franked, it is in the quality; for me human meat is a delicacy. Now, I am writing this down because I know you lot would enjoy reading this, somewhere deep inside, you are all like me, but you have empathy and a conscience to stop you from doing what I do. Right now, I might seem to whomever might read this as a common psychopath or a sociopath, but that would be an understatement because unlike that kind of people, I do not make mistakes. Even this piece of information is not going to help anyone find me or let alone stop me from doing what I do, otherwise I would not be writing this letter, would I? Best regards, A man with finer tastes in life. Category:Dismemberment Category:BloodySpghetti Category:Mental Illness Category:Reality